Filling the Void
by The Sylver Lining
Summary: Forge and Toad are refugees, scraping by with any illegal means they can. Preed might be the cohort they're looking for. Experienced, amoral - and manipulative, predatory, with his own dangerous agenda. This might be a perfect storm of dysfunction. Slash.
1. No Questions, No Lies

Forge wasn't entirely sure he'd made the right decision.

Nothing had gone wrong yet. Nothing that should logically make him worry, anyway. They were even starting to settle into a kind of routine. Rotating around the small ship, becoming familiar with one anothers' patterns, presences, and comfort zones. He was already well used to Mortimer scooting around, bare webbed feet flapping softly against the metal floor, quickly adapting to life in the cramped spaces and dim lights. Maybe the amphibian in him found it comforting. And Forge found _that_ comforting. Blasting away from that bar and never looking back was one of the best decisions they'd ever made.

But now, he thought he might have made one of the worst.

"Now, the way I see it," Long fingers waved through the air, coming to rest at an illuminated point on the navigation map. "If we just keep to this heading a smidge longer, we can skirt the Demilitarized Zone, and avoid any prying eyes or sticky fingers, mmm?"

"Yeah!" Mortimer piped up, unaccustomed enthusiasm making Forge look over from his own station in the back of the tiny room that passed for a bridge. "We really don't wanna end up stuck there – right?" He glanced up at the taller copilot, yellow eyes wide and seeking approval.

"Oh, quite right you are." Preedex Yoa tapped a key and the map went dark. He leaned back in the chair that clearly hadn't been designed for Akrennian anatomy, but his flowing limbs were flexible enough to fit into the mold. "Federation officers have _no_ sense of humor, believe you me."

"Hey," Forge said, and they both turned around to look at him. "I thought we were heading toward New Beijing."

"Oh, this sector's about tapped out, I should think!" Preed said breezily, turning back around to look at the main display. "We'll find much better pickings a ways off. Someplace nobody knows our names, hmm?"

"Sure..." Forge said slowly. "But I figured we could just stop by New Beijing, see what word on the street is. Something interesting's gotta be going down somewhere around here."

"Preed says he heard about this – it's a self-sealing stem bolt shortage, right?" Again, Mortimer spoke eagerly, and his buggy yellow eyes flicked up for confirmation.

"That's right. Hereabouts, anyway. Do you know how valuable those precious little things can get during a dry period?" Preed made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a self-satisfied little harrumph. "But past the Demilitarized Zone, they can't give them away fast enough. See where I'm heading with this?"

"Yeah," Forge looked doubtful. "Uh... you know we don't have the cash to buy these things, no matter how cheap they are."

"My dear boy, I don't recall saying anything about _buying_. You did say that our activities would be, ah, less than law-abiding?"

"Yeah." Forge said, looking down as he felt his face flush. Preed had a way of making him feel stupid or insignificant, though he never said anything directly. Whether it was unconscious or intentional on the Akrennian's part, or even all in his own head, Forge was feeling it more and more. "So we're going that far out of our way, based on a rumor."

"Not just a rumor," Preed said, but was only half-listening. He turned his head so his good ear faced the metal covering the guts of the ship, and leaned down. "Greener pastures, isn't that what humans say? Reading the currents of commerce, and..." he squinted, cupping his ear against the bulkhead. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Mort held very still, but heard nothing. Then he leaned forward and pressed his own ear against the metal, while Forge stared. He actually blinked, unsure if he was really seeing the both of them listening to the ship, like it was a sick pet or something.

"It sounds... I don't know. Off. The engine usually hums at a pitch like _hmmmmm,_ but now it's more like _hhhhhm!"_

Forge couldn't help it, he pressed his ear against the wall. No matter how surreal, he had to listen too. "You can hear that?"

"Akrennian ears are the stuff of modern legend," Preed said, lifting his head from the metal and flicking the ragged cartilage and skin. "Even with only one of them."

God only knew what had happened to Preed's other ear. Same thing that put the metal plate in his head, Forge guessed. Preed never mentioned it, and Forge never asked. He had his own mechanized arm and leg, and his own reasons for keeping quiet.

"Wow!" Mort gasped, staring at Preed with the open-faced admiration that made Forge realize he was grinding his teeth. "Oh, man. That is so _cool_."

"Why, thank you." Preed smiled, all sharpened canines and alien face wrinkles. "It's common knowledge, you know. Can't keep a secret from an Akrennian, these things pick up _everything._"

"You really hear something weird?" Forge frowned, standing up straight again. "I just did a whole inventory of all systems, everything was fine, but." But something might be wrong with his ship. And just that thought made him feel like twitching, the very idea made him want run back to the claustrophobic engine room _right now_ and tear the place inside-out again. "Maybe I should take another look."

"Yes, that sounds like an absolutely stellar idea."

"Okay." But Forge didn't move; he looked over at Mortimer. "You good here for a while?"

"Huh?" Mort looked from Preed to Forge, as if seeing him for the first time. "Oh! Yeah, we're good! Great!"

"Great." Forge mumbled. "I'll... I'll just go do that." Neither of them heard him trail off lamely. They'd both turned back around, talking about something he obviously wasn't included in. Forge jammed his hands into pockets and glared at the floor as he slumped off the bridge.

"So, how do you know all this cool stuff, about – you know, how ships sound, and self-sealing stem bolts?"

Preed gave a deep-throated chuckle, and shook his head. "Ahh, my young friend, ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies." A languid smile like a sleepy crocodile, and he looked up. "Well, I certainly didn't expect to be running with another human, and a... where did you say you were from, Mortimer?"

"Uh." Mort gulped, toad-in-the-headlights. "It's, uh. It's out there. You've probably never been there."

"Oh, I don't know. I've seen a veritable plethora of different faces and species around this _wondrous_ galaxy of ours – but don't remember ever seeing anyone quite like _you_ before." Mort was used to hearing that, but it usually wasn't meant as a compliment. But Preed was smiling, his voice warm and smooth, and Mort couldn't help but feel okay about being... unique. "And – 'Mortimer,' that's a human name, isn't it? Even Toads are delightful little creatures from Earth. Sadly extinct, but. That's where they came from, isn't it?"

"It... I, um." Mort gave a nervous little giggle. "Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no – no lies?"

Preed stared at him for a moment – then threw his head back and broke into a raucous laugh, throwing an arm around Mort's bony shoulders. "Why, you precocious little sprout, you darling enigma! You're simply a Toad after my own heart, aren't you?"

Mort couldn't quite answer. His mind had screeched to a halt, and all that came out of his mouth were giggly little sputtering sounds that definitely were not English, or any discernible language. He couldn't remember if he'd ever blushed in his life – cold-blooded amphibians didn't do that much – but there was definitely a rushing in his ears, and a lightness in his head. His brain spun in the strange embrace, and he awkwardly tried to return it – but Preed had already slipped away.

"Oh, I understand perfectly. We all have our secrets, the universal skeletons in the closet..." His copper eyes flicked down for a moment – but the dark look was so fleeting that when the smile returned a moment later, Mort wasn't sure he'd seen anything at all. "Tell me – how well do you know this ship?"

"Huh?" Mort blinked, disarmed by the sudden subject change. "The ship? Uh, not all that well, I guess. It's Forge's, and he mostly takes care of it and knows all the ins and outs and stuff, like he's actually part of it. Or it's part of him. I just fly it."

"Ahh. Then you haven't really had fun with it, or seen what it can do?"

"Not really."

"Well, then. What say we kick this rattle-trap up a few gears, and take it for a real spin?"

"What?" Mort stared at him. "Just like – go nuts with it?"

"Indeed! How can you know all your options if you don't know your limits?"

"I dunno. I should really ask Forge before I start messing around."

"Oh, don't worry your sweet little head about that," Preed waved away Mort's concerns with long, thin fingers. "He's elbow-deep in the thing's bowels anyway, he'll be right there to fix it if something goes wrong! And in the very worst-case scenario, I'll be here to take the blame."

Mortimer eyed him carefully, looking for any hint of malice or guile. He wasn't sure this was the best idea – he'd always liked ships and finding out how they worked, how they flew. But this one wasn't his, and he didn't know it as well as...

But he was also a 'precocious sprout' and a 'darling enigma,' and Preed was right here in case something happened. He could handle this.

"Okay," Mortimer slowly smiled back. He turned off the autopilot, and took the controls into his own hands. "Let's go for a ride."

"That's it," Preed said quietly, standing up and stepping behind the helmsman's chair. "It's all right to deviate from the course, we can come back to it any time. Just pick up some more speed..."

Mort felt something on his shoulders; he glanced down to see two brown, thin-fingered hands resting on them. Preed's hands followed their course, unconsciously moving left and right, as if 'steering' Mortimer along with the ship.

And Mortimer let himself play. Little turns, little spins, corkscrews and loops, going nowhere, accomplishing nothing but fun, soaring in parabolas with no up or down or sideways, everything was possible in space, the vacuum was a blank slate. Until-

"Faster." Preed gave his shoulders a little squeeze.

"The hull can't take much more stress, we're pushing it as it is."

"It can take it. Just keep steadily increasing the speed. I want to show you something."

Mort urged the engines on and chased the display gauges into the red-marked warning areas, and lights on the console started to flash. The floor vibrated under Mort's bare feet, he could feel the metal and plastic surfaces of the controls humming through his fingertips, and the small ship shook all around them so hard he was afraid they might fall apart completely.

"We're going too fast!"

"Punch the overdrive!"

"_What?"_

"Kick it into overdrive, now!" Preed's grip tightened on his shoulders again. "It'll be all right – trust me!"

Mort took a deep breath – and switched gears.

The ship quaked, the whining and awful grinding of the metal and engine's clamor hurt his ears; Mort squeezed his eyes shut and just had time to think _we're dead, we're dead, I killed us, we're dead_ -

Then it was silent.

And he was floating.

His feet left the floor, and he opened his eyes in shock. He felt himself lift from his seat and hover above it, slipping easily up into the air. His dreadlocks lifted from his shoulders and drifted like sleepy snakes around his head in a halo.

The ship was quiet, engines running easy and hushed, no longer shaking or grinding. Everything was smooth, soft, they'd pushed past the turbulence and into some kind of sweet spot. Mortimer still clung to the manual controls, and Preed's hands were still on his shoulder. But the Akrennian's boots were off the ground too, and he chuckled deep in his throat.

"Don't worry," Preed murmured in his ear, as if reading his thoughts. "This is normal. Better than normal. When you're ready, slip us back into normal drive."

Mort hesitated, floating for just a few more seconds. Now that he was used to it, he didn't really want it to end. He'd spent his entire life on space stations and drifter colonies, had only gray, vague memories of Earth and natural gravity... but he couldn't remember ever feeling weightless, literally floating, free. He let the wonderful feeling stretch on for the space of a deep breath – then brought the ship out of overdrive.

A brief moment of shakes and noise, and they dropped into normal space, normal operation, and mundanity. Preed's feet hit the floor and Mort dropped back into his seat, head spinning, dizzy, he still felt like he was floating.

"Ohmigawd... That was so cool! I don't even – wow!" Mortimer gasped, still staring at the brightly-lit console, hardly believing what he'd just been able to do. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Oh, I picked that up from a human friend a long, long time ago. The overdrive, you see, on a ship this size it takes more power than the engine's got to engage it – so the afterburn diverts power from non-essential systems. Gravity's usually the first thing to go."

"Huh. Wow." Mortimer shook his head, metal tips of his dreadlocks clicking together. He was suddenly exhausted, drained from the rush of adrenaline and excitement. "Still can't even believe I did that."

"It's amazing, what you can do once you step outside your comfort zone."

"Yeah." Mort reset the autopilot and stood up, stretching his wiry limbs. "Well, I should really go check on Forge, make sure everything's cool. Especially if the whole ship lost gravity just now."

"Yes, of course." Preed waved over his shoulder as Mort stepped around the front seats to the door at the back of the cabin. "I'll hold down the fort here. You just relax for a while, have a rest. That was a big step for you, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." Mort was smiling so widely his cheeks hurt, still riding the crest of the lingering high. "Thanks for showing me how."

"Oh, think nothing of it!" Preed smiled back, and Mort didn't find the expression on an alien face quite as unsettling as he had before. "It was most entertaining for me too. You're a natural at the helm, my dear, verdant friend. You did very, very well."

"Thanks." Mortimer looked down, dreads hiding all of his face except a flash of pointed teeth. "I just – thanks." He turned and shuffled out the doorway, leaving Preed alone in the cabin behind him.

# # #

**A/N:** This madness was requested by a dear friend - and luckily, I enjoy writing **Fortimer** as much as she enjoys reading it. I realize that Preed's been **uncharacteristically nice** here... which is how he always is when he wants something. (I was so tempted to put this in the 'horror' section... it's always horrifying when he tries to be charming. Or seduce an unsuspecting teenager.) Stay tuned to find out what's on his twisty little brain. I guarantee more dysfunction and upfuckery to follow.


	2. Only After One Thing

_"Still looking alive, Sunshines? You're listening to 109, still flying high in the sky, with me, Dr. Death-Defying, doing what I do best for 1,000 fun-filled years. It's a beautiful day in the bright-and-shiny trinary Alpha Centauri, and I hope you're all out catching some waves in the big bad dark. Twinkle, twinkle, wherever you are, Tumbleweeds, and if you're smart you'll steer clear of the Gamma Quadrant for the time being. Been a lot of nasty blue bugs buzzing around there, and we all know the Drej like sending even Exterminators and the Dominion crying to their mommies._

_"So listen to your old pal, Dr. D, and try to keep yourselves kicking and sassy. I'm still your surgeon, still your proctor. Babies, I'll **always** be your helicopter! Keep glowing like the solar flares you are, the game's the same as it ever was, my little lumps of stardust and mayhem. The sandbox just got a little bigger, that's all."_

Eyes shut and hands behind his head, Forge leaned back and smiled, letting the deep voice from the tiny homemade radio fill the room. It was always comforting, even if he didn't really know who or where it came from. Nobody did. Maybe it wasn't even all one person. But for centuries, since before anyone could even remember, there had been a station 109, and a Dr. Death-Defying, watching out for humanity like some snarky guardian angel, everybody's invisible, imaginary friend. A voice they all learned from childhood, and sometimes the last one they ever heard.

And right now, with the human race scattered across the galaxy, lost and alone and homeless, they needed him more than ever.

_"Now I'll just climb off my intergalactic soap box and keep rocking the radio waves the way you all know and love. It's Guilty Pleasure week on 109, and you've just enjoyed a long set of Old Earth 1,000-year vintage with ABBA's very own Dancing Queen, still only seventeen after a millenium. And now let's keep rattling those stars with some siren songs from a late, great lady whose name ain't Baby, it's Janet, Miss Jackson if you're **nasty!** Killjoys, make some-"_

Forge rolled over and slapped at the radio dial as the wheel of the metal door turned and scraped open. The static crackled and fuzzed and he finally shut it off as Mortimer shut the door behind him.

"Oh, Hi, Forge!" Mortimer almost chirped, actually smiling, crooked and vaguely loopy. "I didn't see you there."

"Yeah, just, uh. Just listening for activity..." Forge mumbled, turning away as heat rushed into his cheeks. He settled back into the bottom bunk bed, and gave Mortimer a tired smile. "How you been?"

"Good! Great!" The small green mutant flopped into the only bolted-down chair in the claustrophobic room, pulling his long legs and webbed feet up under himself. "I, uh..." he stopped, grin slipping off his face. "Did you, uh - have any problems with the gravity?"

"You could say that." Forge gingerly rubbed the back of his head, where a nasty goose egg was starting to swell. "It completely cut out while I was taking a look in engineering. It came back in a second, and I didn't find anything else wrong, but still. Not a good sign. Hey," he looked up, realizing something. "You felt it too? That means it was shipwide..."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Actually?" Mortimer's voice got higher as he spoke, and the smile was back, but this one was nervous. "I know what that was. Preed showed me some really cool things, and we kind of put the ship into hyperdrive for a few seconds."

"You - ohh." Forge groaned, and rubbed at his closed eyes - his whole head was starting to hurt. "The afterburn, of course."

"I'm sorry!" Mortimer said quickly, unconsciously curling his long toes in a nervous tic. "I know we should have asked you, it's your ship and I just - he said-"

"It's okay, Mort." Forge opened his eyes. "Just ask me next time, okay? It's not great for the engines, something could blow really bad if we try that too often. Emergencies only."

"Okay." Mort mumbled, not looking at him.

Forge's expression softened. "It was pretty fun, huh?"

Mort looked up, brightening. "Yeah! Oh man - I didn't know you could even do stuff like that! I mean, going that _fast_, with that much power, and then just - _fwoosh!_ All floating, and weightless, and! It was just so awesome! _He's _so awesome!"

"Yeah, it is a pretty amazing..." Forge frowned. "Who's awesome?"

"Preed! He knows all this stuff, like about - just how the universe _works,_ and stuff!"

"Oh." Forge folded his arms over his chest, reaching over with his living hand to adjust a tiny moving part on the mechanical one. He wasn't sure what to say to this, but it didn't matter. Mortimer was still talking.

"I mean, he's so experienced, and he knows so much about ships and places we've never been, and how to survive and make money, and - make gravity disappear!" he almost giggled. "And I know there's tons of stuff he hasn't told us, and that's okay but I wish he would! Man, I bet he has some cool stories!"

"Yeah," Forge said slowly. "I wish he would too. We don't really know anything about him, do we?"

"Well..." Mort rested his chin in one hand, looking faraway. "He said he used to hang out with humans, that's where he learned that afterburn trick. But yeah, whenever I ask he just says that 'no questions, no lies' thing. And I get that, I mean... he still thinks you're a normal human, and I'm an alien."

"Good. Let's keep it that way."

"Yeah. But does it really matter? Now he's with us, and everything's gonna be easier. Better."

"Hey, we were doing fine." Forge grumbled. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"C'mon, you know what I mean." When Forge didn't answer, Mortimer's smile faded. "You're happy too, right? I mean, you're okay that he's here?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. I just... don't rush into trusting him completely, okay? He's a pirate."

"We're pirates!"

"You know what I mean! I just - I don't like the way he looks at - at us," Forge caught himself. "Sometimes he's got this look like there's so much going on in his head that he's not saying, and not all of it's good. I don't like it."

"I've never seen that. Mostly he smiles."

"It's worse when he smiles." Forge suppressed a shudder.

"C'mon, Forge." Mortimer thought this might have been the first time he'd ever tried to reassure his friend, instead of the other way around. He hoped he sounded convincing. "He's not a bad guy! He can be really cool. He talks to me, and listens to me, and teaches me things, and calls me..." Mortimer didn't finish, giving an odd wiggling little shrug and not looking up.

"And I'm good at it, too. Flying," Mort said instead. "Preed said I'm a natural."

"Well, I don't trust him." Forge frowned. "I'm starting to think next time we dock, he should step off."

"Hey, we talked about this! We can't keep running with just the two of us, we need someone who really knows the area, and that's what we got! We decided this together, Forge!"

"I know, and I'm starting to think it wasn't the right call!"

"What? Are you kidding me?"

"No, I - I mean, I just... I don't know!" Forge sat up, narrowly avoiding bumping his head on the metal beam of the bunk bed above. "It's like you said, he's really - _experienced_, and we're - not! He might be playing us, that's all, did you think about that?"

"No!" Mort folded his arms. "Because I'm not going all - crazy paranoid, and I can actually start to trust people-"

"Yeah, and I'm not sure that's such a-"

"I trusted you!"

Forge shut his mouth, and was silent for a moment. "I know, and-"

"Trusting you was the best thing I ever did, Forge! You got me out of there, and just - showed me this whole cool amazing galaxy, so much stuff I didn't even know existed, or I could ever have! And it's been great. You and me. And that's not gonna change! I just - now that I know it's possible, I'm thinking hey, maybe there are other people who'll give me the time of day, right?"

"There are. You're worth it." Forge said quietly. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. Playing on your feelings, that's just a really good way to get under your skin, and get what you want from someone."

"Well maybe he's not playing us, maybe he actually wants to be my friend because he likes me for me. I mean, _you _do, right?"

"You know I do-"

"And you know how freakin' rare it is when someone can actually stand me, and likes being in the same room, or even takes the time to teach me things, and gives a crap about me? I mean, God, I just remember working in that bar and-"

"Then you should know that most guys out here are - are _only after one thing!_" Forge blurted - then snapped his mouth shut, almost clapping a hand over it. There was a long, awful silence while Mortimer stared at him - and his big yellow eyes slowly narrowed into slits.

"Right. 'Cause that's all I am." Mort hopped off the chair, webbed feet slapping sharply against the metal floor. He reached up into his top bunk and grabbed a pillow and blanket, then turned and slapped at the switch on the wall to open the door.

"Mort - no, I didn't mean - Mort, I'm sorry -!"

"Save it!" Mort whirled around as Forge got up off the bed, dreadlocks swaying and metal tips clinking. "I don't wanna hear it. I know what you think of me. Same thing as everyone else."

"Where are you going?" Forge instantly realized exactly how stupid that question was. It was a tiny ship, and taking a walk outside it wasn't quite an option.

"Out. _Good night." _

The door automatically slid shut, so Mort couldn't exactly slam it, but it still felt that way to Forge. He took a couple steps toward the door - then stopped. He felt like banging his head against it a few times, but instead fell back into bed, and turned the radio back on.

# # #

"Mortimer? My dear boy, what _are_ you doing up at this hour? And bringing your bed with you, I see?"

"Huh? Oh. Hi." Mort stopped stomping through the cramped corridor to look into the small bridge where Preed still lounged. "I just. I dunno. Figured I'd sleep in the... eating room, mess, whatever - I'm just gonna sleep there tonight."

"Goodness me, why? It can't be particularly comfortable, and there are far less excessive ways of getting a midnight snack."

"Nah, I just." He jabbed his thumb in the general direction of the room he and Forge shared. "We just kinda got into it a little, he... he's just kind of being a dick, that's all."

"Mmm. Well, don't worry, I _quite_ understand how antagonistic and nonsensical humans can be. It's best not to bother trying to understand them." Preed slunk to his feet, crossing the small bridge and leaning against the doorway. "But in any case, we can't have you sleeping in the mess, that's out of the question."

"It's really okay, I can just-"

"Nonsense! Take my room."

"Wh- what?" Mortimer blinked, not quite sure if he'd heard right.

"Oh, it'll be vacant!" Preed laughed. "I'm still manning the conn, keeping us on a straight course and smooth sailing. Shame to let a free bed go to waste, don't you think?"

"I... uh..." Mort almost squeaked, making a pretense of folding up his blanket more neatly.

"It's settled, then!" Somehow, Preed had gotten behind him and placed both hands on his shoulders, propelling him down the hallway. "It seems to me you could use a bit of privacy to, ah, mull everything over. And everything looks better on the sunny end of a good night's sleep!"

"Well yeah, but Forge..." _Only after one thing._

"Yes. That _did_ sound like a pleasant little conversation you were having. It must be a human thing, hmm? Always thinking they know everything, trying to decide for themselves what's best for you..."

Mortimer frowned, and stopped, turning around. "Okay." he said, maybe a little more forcefully than necessary. "Thanks. I - really, I mean that."

"Oh, no need for thanks, dear lad. It's the very least I can do for a shipmate in need."

"Okay. Yeah." Mortimer nodded several times, as if trying to convince himself of something. "I'll see you in the morning. Or. Whenever."

"Good night then, Mortimer. Sleep well!"

"Night." Mort shuffled off down the corridor, and turned a tight corner.

Preed sloped back into the bridge with a smug grin creeping across his face, feeling exceedingly proud of himself.

**# # # **

**A/N:** Oh my, what evil deeds_ are_ he plotting? I'm sure it'll be fun.

That DJ's monologue at the beginning there is a reference to **Dr. Death-Defying**, from the My Chemical Romance album** "Danger Days: True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys.**" It's now my headcanon that Dr. D is an immortal being, who survived the destruction of Earth, and continues to watch over his army of rebellious, fabulous humans from some hidden location in the galaxy. Possibly this is now your headcanon too. Yay!

Ah, a small note I probably should have added before: **This fic takes place AFTER the events of the film Titan: A.E., under the AU assumption that Preed somehow survived. **This is also my headcanon, and I can indeed back it up with rambling. I believe this for _reasons._


End file.
